


Crawl Into My Veins

by SouthernBird



Series: XZero Week [1]
Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X, Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Day one: Firsts, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Robot Sex, Sort of Robot Sex That Is, Technology Babbling, X is Sexually Capable, XZero Week, Zero is Not Sexually Capable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernBird/pseuds/SouthernBird
Summary: Zero is the maker of many of X's firsts.





	Crawl Into My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> So my pals on an XZero discord I am honored to be a part of put together this whole XZero week. I sadly have not had as much time to work on stories for the prompts due to con crunch, but I hope this little fic suffices as I am super pumped to see what all my friends have created!

X first experiences climax at the ends of his best friend’s fingers.

The entirety of it is nothing like the romantic tales woven by human writers in their prose and their diction, the stories of euphoria that is clawed for, begged for, between the sheets and limbs of intercourse. No, this instance is an ascension, a prominent building of static that clings the most hidden of nodes that X never once thought would even have simulated nerves for touch that would light his processors to the brink of overheating. For a proud shouldered Hunter with his victories as worlds that weigh down his spine, he is then a frantic, panting existence with the only means of purpose being to cool the overexertion that wracks his form while he begs in irrational syllables something he never thought could be experienced by himself.

How wrong he is, and how he delights in it, especially when seeking fingertips curve at a spot —- _right there._

When the zenith hits, it does not goad the blue Hunter into relief, but rather bashes him into scattered pieces of pleasure. Vocal box glitching with a shrill, thrilled tone, X could have alerted any Hunter on duty of his ‘duress’ if not for a hand that comes over his mouth to muffle his erratic cries.

Then, as suddenly as the climax comes, it quiets, and a usually composed X now shakes while his systems recalibrate and reset. Were it possible to be washed away and forgotten in time as his eyes, dark, hazy emerald of summer in the night, blearily assess the cracks in the ceiling, the Hunter would allow such fate. It would be pleasant, surely, just as he feels right then.

However, in spite of his crumbling resolve and trembling joints, a crimson tide draws him back to the corner lines of a dim corridor to remind him of dreaded reality.

“Z…” X hiccups— a glitch of his vocals whenever his body suffers the potential of overheating, usually ramped up during field routines— as he reaches down to return the favor, his own fingers lining the ridges of the lower vent of his partner, “let… can I?”

Hands take X’s, and all hopes for reciprocating the measures of desire heightened to a cusp of something that is simply otherworldly in the minds of androids crash to the floor despite the lack of expression that greets a worried green gaze. It all culminates in a denial that nearly breaks X’s core into perfect blue fractals.

“That isn’t advisable, X.”

“And why is that?” And perhaps the blue Hunter’s voice is tighter than it should, his lips downturned in some semblance of his dismay, and well, why can he not? Reciprocation is direly needed in a relationship, the gives and the takes interwoven into some idea of harmony that allows the buds to bloom.

To be told no, to have a decline in the invitation, does nothing more than eat away at X’s wiring.

“Simple; I lack the sensory capabilities,” Zero states in such a plain matter of fact voice that is more a reciting of the results of a lackluster simulation to a room of knee-knocked recruits than it is having a thorough discussion of his own specifications.

Were it any other time, any other circumstance, perhaps X would be offended for his partner, but his temper is abated with a tender press of lips along his own, thus creating a reality of silence with a hiccuping fritz of a spark.

For a war machine that could retire an entire fleet of adversaries with an archaic tool such as a Swiss Army knife, Zero has a funny way of utilizing in what he has deemed as ‘useless human rituals’ to keep X quiet for at least two minutes.

A beep, two, then perhaps four or six in succession pander for attention when the heat levels start to creep upwards towards warning status causing a reluctant parting. X huffs, an exhale that begins the cycle for hot air to flow from his vents before inhaling sharply, “you are getting way too good at that.”

Zero's stoic expression falters, teeters between amusement and pride before he rolls his wide pauldrons with a dismissive, lazy shrug. "I simply strive to be as effective as possible in all endeavors I undertake. Directive and all.”

For a moment, the blue bot allows himself to ponder extensively upon the remark, but then tucks his scattering quandaries away for further introspection in the quiet of his room. Instead of pressing for more evidence of the claim— does he truly need any?—, X simply smiles, a motion of his mouth that reaches his eyes before he inches away from the war he has been pressed against just moments prior to lean up as tall as he can to grace the blond’s jawline with a chaste kiss.

“I’ll try and remember that in future situations. Now… we really should get to the Control Center before Alia sends someone for us.”

A glance of blue skies flashes towards him as he inches back brings a thought of a warm summer day that crawls cotton into his veins only to tie his kite-soaring heart ever closer to the earth. Fingers find his own, squeeze tight and assured before hands fall away, and a first of many stands in memory.


End file.
